


Meeting

by swordcane91



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Bad Flirting, First Meeting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 20:42:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13772157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordcane91/pseuds/swordcane91
Summary: Nasir and Agron meet. Donar attempts to give sound advice.





	Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> oh look, it's another "Nagron first meet" speculation fic XD. Apologies for the repeat theme, but I wanted to jump into it as I rewatch the series.

He had not expected to make any friends within Spartacus’ rebellion, especially after he had attempted to take the Thracian’s life. Cold eyes constantly followed him around the villa, fingers itching to take sword across his throat. The one they called Crixus, a Gaul of considerable strength, watched him particularly – word claimed that a Syrian had stolen his heart, and consequently, Crixus had lost trust in all Syrians he came across.

Still, the man’s belief did little to trouble him. He had not risen to status of body slave on establishing close ties to the other slaves. His relationship with the others remained purely cordial, only to inform them of the tasks their dominus called for.

Nasir offered brief smile to passing man as he made his way to the training yard. It stung to see villa, his home, transformed into a camp for these fugitives, a pain only dulled by Spartacus’ demands. He could not lie: he had believed in rumors of these escaped slaves being uncivilized animals, beasts of unquenchable bloodlust, and had thus expected them to ransack villa and allow it to descend into camp of debased nature. In truth, the Thracian had enforced order upon villa, planning on maintaining the place while gathering more recruits.

“Where do you go, little man?”

He froze upon step, lips instinctively curling into a snarl. Where the name came from, he would never know, but meaning did not escape him.

“Do not call me that again, or else the Gods shall turn from you,” he growled.

The man who had called him such was the gladiator from before, the one with a temper many of his comrades had been quick to comment on. They had spoken briefly, breaching topic of Rome and then brotherhood before he had quickly ended conversation.

“What else can I call you? Not Tiberius – such Roman name does not suit one without fair skin.”

“I have told you my name many nights ago,” he answered, tensing as the man strode closer. Difference in height forced him to look upwards. “With each passing day, you have spoken same question, and I have given answer. Does my name bear little weight in your memory?”

They locked eyes, unwavering brown upon piercing green.

“Nasir,” the gladiator finally said, grinning widely.

His smile was strained, almost as if he was unused to such a simple act.

A loud clattering broke gaze. Donar stood over a pile of dropped shields.

“Cupid has struck again,” the bald man said. “If you wish to act, do so before Spartacus calls for Agron.”

With a satisfactory nod, he retrieved as many shields as his arms could carry and disappeared into villa. However, he quickly reemerged to add further statement:

“Agron wants to fuck.”

“Donar!” the German growled, prompting his friend to permanently vanish. His cheeks pleasantly flushed.

He licked his lips, suddenly aware of the fluttering in his stomach. It was certainly something new and unexpected. Bathed in sunlight, he could not help but to further admire Agron’s form and wonder at the power that rested beneath skin.

“Where do your eyes fall to?”

Nasir snapped his gaze back to Agron’s face. “Nothing that deserves my attention.”

By the Gods, the man _preened_ , puffing his chest ever so slightly, cocking his head to the side.

“Do not gaze upon me in such manner.” He faltered, again unconsciously licking his lips in attempt to hide his nervousness.

A warm hand lifted his chin.

“How else may I look upon one who has captured my attention?”


End file.
